


Afterimage

by mystery_deer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Elias bodysnatched a woman but it doesn't really matter, Elias has a woman's body but make no mistake this is very gay, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Peter refers to Elias as James the entire time bc that's how he knows him, Possibly Unrequited Love, gertrude robinson is mentioned, hard to tell with these two, of course, peter goes on rants in his mind as opposed to out loud here, peter interchanges he/she pronouns for elias, typical of my fics nothing much happens just a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22638592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_deer/pseuds/mystery_deer
Summary: Peter meets a woman, briefly.Peter meets a man, briefly.Imprints of a picture that's been torn from a notebook.(AKA: Peter mopes and is lonely while James/Elias goes about his day)
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Afterimage

Peter Lukas spent much of his time on land wishing for the sea. In fact, the only reason he came on land recently was to do just that- and he was in the process of it (sitting on a park bench, listening to the ocean as the wind rustled through the leaves) when a woman sat down beside him.

He opened his eyes, annoyed, and was about to either tell her to kindly get lost or to get lost specifically in the lonely when he felt it.

He was being watched.

He scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of James Wright but there was no one besides a few families desperate to get out of the house and shivering couples who’d thought a romantic walk in the park would be a fun date activity.

Then he paused.  
The woman smiled, looking forward.  
It was him.

“A woman?” Peter asked, eyes decidedly not wandering over to take in the form of his companion. Or more aptly, the form his companion had taken.

“It’s temporary. There were...complications.” James turned and Peter could feel him looking at him, willing him to turn.

“What about you? What about er, James?”  
“He’s unfortunately gone missing. I hear the authorities are doing all they can.” James said sardonically and then paused.

“Are you against it? I know you like blondes.” As he finished his assertion Peter could feel the inside of his head go a bit fuzzy with static. His mind always felt different for a bit after James rooted around inside it.

No doubt he’d pulled the image of Peter’s favorite nanny.  
He’d known her for a blissfully short three days. She’d had blonde hair and a quiet detachment that made his absence of a mother feel all the more acute.

“Has Elias wisened up?” He asked, hitting the side of his head as if trying to dislodge water. 

“No, thankfully I’m in no danger of that. It’s just difficult to lure an ambitionless pothead with the promise of power and eternal life. Doubly so if you’re his boss and old and he hates you.” James held out his cigar and didn’t move his hand until Peter lit it. His nails were perfectly manicured and a deep red that drew the eye.

“He wasn’t lured by power so you’re hoping sex will do the trick?”  
“I know it will. We’re going out to dinner Saturday.”  
“Sounds awful.”  
“But Peter...I love him~” Peter would deeply pity the poor boy if he wasn’t much more concerned for himself. 

“Do you now.”  
“Oh yes.” He said, blowing smoke into the air. “He has the most beautiful eyes.”

___________

“So, who was she?” Peter asked.

They were walking down the street aimlessly. Peter had gotten up and James had followed for some reason, silent and smoking.

He had had a better look at him as they’d walked. It was stunning, and odd. He could see so much James Wright in her. The way the body moved with its hips, curled its fingers around the cigar, the way it spoke.  
But then again how much of that was really Wright?

“Joanne.”  
“You’re kidding.”  
“I know!” He chuckled and that was different. A laugh he’d never heard before. The body’s natural impulse was to gasp and snort and Peter thought he might have found it charming if he were a different person. A person who loved this ‘Joanne’ instead of-

“She worked in the institute...somewhere? I can’t remember. Not the archives of course, Gertrude would have a fit if I harmed one of her assistants before she had the chance to throw them to whatever wolf reared its head.”

“Does it hurt?”

James smiled and it was crooked on Joanne’s mouth. “Not for me.”

\------------------------------

The sex was the same. Different in semantics of course but at the core it was the same.

James tsked as if annoyed when he came inside and Peter remembered too late that it might have some...unwanted effects.

“Is this how the Lukas family has grown so large?” James mused, grabbing a bottle of water from the nightstand and gulping it down.

“James, I’m hurt!” Peter smiled, looking out the window. He’d chosen the apartment for the absence of a view. Just sky, and the weather was turbulent enough to turn the sky a blank white nothing.  
“Don’t you want to have my baby?”

James made a noise of disgust. Peter laughed.  
“We can’t stop at one of course. Let’s saaay...four? Nice round number.”

“If we had any children I would ensure that none of them would be able to grab even a moment of alone time." James asserted. Peter could see the faint shape of his reflection in the window, wiping his hands on Peter's pillow. Prick.  
"No vapid woe-is-me introspection in their spacious rooms with me on the premises.”

“I guess it’s only natural for an avatar of the eye to be a helicopter parent.” Peter sighed.  
“They would all begin to serve the eye.” James continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Hard to fight for the affections of someone who’s never there.”

“...Is that a jab at me?” Peter asked, his voice playful but eyes dully focused on that reflection. James was facing away from him, long hair nearly covering his smaller body as he sat with his cheek resting on his knees. He looked vulnerable, wanting. Peter felt the distance between them and it was all he could do to keep from sighing with pleasure.

“I wouldn’t jab at you if you wouldn’t try to saddle me with little...emos.” 

“What’s an emo?”  
“I don’t know. A sad person? Elias said it the other day. I'm trying to prepare myself.” Peter scoffed.  
“I hate him.”  
“I hope that you’ll be able to turn that attitude around when the time comes.” James said, voice softly jovial and the way it always was when they were like this. Peter closed his eyes.

“I hate you too.”  
“We both know that isn’t true.”

A pause. A pause so long Peter nearly turned around to see what kind of expression James’ newest mask was wearing.

“If you hated me you wouldn’t let me do this.” Peter felt the unfamiliar warmth of a woman’s breasts pressed against his back as James wrapped his arms around him and kissed whatever skin his lips found.  
It was a singular kiss, soft, intimate. The kind of thing that if done by anyone else but James would have sent one or both of them to the lonely in a screeching blink.

Peter stared out the window. James laughed silently, he could feel his breath on his back.

“Besides. I know it isn’t true.” He added, insult to salt in the wound.  
“Oh?” Peter hummed thoughtfully as he felt the eye’s power pressing in on him from all sides. He filled his mind with images of James’ least flattering orgasm faces. This apparently worked as he felt James’ grip (physical and otherwise) slip from him.

The next thing he heard was the bathroom door shut and the shower start.  
James didn’t make a sound even though Peter knew for a fact that the water was freezing cold.

Alone with his thoughts for the moment he opened his eyes and imagined another him. A childhood him, wandering the foggy expansive grounds of his family’s estate. He remembered that particular day. He had been eating breakfast when one of the maids - a new one no doubt - had filled his glass with orange juice. And it looked so...bright. 

He’d blinked and looked up at her and she had stared down at him, face impassive.  
And then she’d smiled, horrifyingly bright.  
He’d never seen her after that day and it had thankfully not ruined his chances at the lonely but it had unfortunately stuck with him, twisting like a knife in his gut. 

He pictured James now, Joanne he supposed - he couldn’t go around calling a woman James without attracting attention (and he had spent his whole life avoiding it). He pictured himself sitting at the head of the table, in a home very similar to his childhood one. All Lukas homes he’d been to were so spacious and empty it was hard to differentiate between them.

He thought James would appreciate that. He did so love that sprawling institute.  
He pictured Joanne pouring him a glass of clear, cool water and when Peter looked up at her, she smiled.

And even when James had said his goodbyes, Peter listened through the thin walls of his apartment to her retreating heeled footsteps. Listened to the elevator close with a soft ding and then listened to the silence she left behind for him.

In his dreams he pictured Joanne pouring him a glass of static, laughing as he drank it all down.

\------------------------------

When he returned to shore months later Peter Lukas heard immediately of James Wrights’ untimely demise. 

He’d heard of it while out at sea actually. One of his sailors had suddenly begun to experience an acute fear of having to raise or lower the sails.  
“Too high up.” He repeated, shivering. “Too high up.” 

It wasn’t long after that that the man went missing and Peter - during one of his nightly walks - had fallen to his knees from a sudden bout of vertigo.  
“Helloooo!” Simon said cheerfully, standing in front of him.  
“Go away.”  
“James Wright has died.” And even though Peter knew that that must have meant it had all gone according to plan, he couldn’t help the wave of sorrow that overtook him for a moment. 

“I don’t care.”  
“I think you do.” Simon said, now balancing on the railing. “I think you care quite a bit.” 

He laughed as Peter pushed him and he rose again, soaked and grinning with joy as he flew into the air and the night was quiet once again.

When Peter reached the institute he opened the door to the lobby and found himself in James Wright’s office. Materializing out of fog and nothing.

The man who looked up, unimpressed to see him, had the face of who Peter assumed had been Elias Bouchard.  
But it was him now.  
And the relief he felt at seeing him was so powerful he nearly vanished back into the lonely to collect himself.

“Sooo.” He said. “All went according to plan~?”  
James rolled his eyes, his severe expression looking almost cute on his young face. It was odd to see James his age. Even Joanne had been in her forties.

“What do you think?” He asked, looking back down at his computer. Busy, then. Peter suspected that having to act as Elias was draining for him and suddenly wanted to stick around to see it. James playing at being a burnout turning his life around.

“I think it smells of...illicit substances in here.”  
“Yes.” James agreed. “Elias has quite the habit and I don’t think people would buy it were he suddenly to turn over quite so many new leaves. Being appointed head of the institute is already pushing it, Gertrude certainly seems-”

“You’re blonde.” They both looked at each other and something passed between them as they did. James suddenly felt a bone-deep loneliness as Peter was overcome with an agonizing sense of being known. 

“I am.” James said, making a conscious effort not to touch his hair. He turned his attentions back to his paperwork as Peter began to slowly vanish, piece by piece.  
“I plan to dye it next week. A sensible brown.”

And by the end of his sentence he was alone again.


End file.
